My last boyfriend—let’s call him James—had a nickname for me: Darth Vague.

(I’m certain he meant it as an endearment!)

James was perpetually accusing me of being unclear. This confused me because, before being with him, I’d rarely had a problem being clear.

I tried to pretend that this new vague version of me was out of some saintly desire to be perpetually positive, but that wasn’t the truth. In reality, I was petrified that I would say the wrong thing—the “wrong thing” being the thing that wou...